


Sit With Me Tonight

by snarkingturtle



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-21 09:32:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkingturtle/pseuds/snarkingturtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each time Regina’s eyes closed and her breathing got too weak, Emma snapped her fingers in front of Regina’s face, forcing Regina to focus on her. “Stay with me, Regina,” she said. “You have to stay with me.” Emma talked until her voice was so hoarse she thought she couldn’t physically talk anymore, and then somehow managed to keep talking. She told Regina all of her best bail-bonds-person stories, her adventures as a juvenile delinquent, anything and everything she could think of to keep Regina’s attention on her, keep her from drifting away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Post QoH death curse fic. I know this topic has pretty much been done to death by this point. But here's my take on it anyway.

 

 

\---

Pressing a hand to her stomach, Regina watched Henry leave with the happy crowd. _I’ll see you later_ , she replayed in her head. She swallowed hard, forced herself to keep standing.

Gold looked at her, a small smirk on his face. “Congratulations,” he said, “You’ve just reunited mother and son. Maybe one day they’ll even invite you to dinner.”

Regina didn’t answer, eyes burning. She let herself out of the shop quietly, climbing into her car.

For a long moment, she just sat there, leaning her head against the steering wheel and trying not to cry. It only half-worked; hot tears still pushed at the corners of her eyes, but she managed to hold back any audible sobs. Still, she thought, if anyone were to walk by, she probably looked a mess.

Regina took a couple of deep breaths, forced herself to lift her head. She looked at herself in the rearview mirror, tried to be pleased that at least her makeup hadn’t run. Forcing herself to smile, she pinched some color back into her cheeks and flipped down her sunglasses before starting the car. As she drove, she fiddled between stations on the radio, but no matter how loud she turned it up, she could only hear Henry’s words, see his back as he walked away from her.

By the time Regina pulled into her driveway, she was feeling decidedly…peculiar. A sharp headache was beginning between her eyes, and her entire body felt mildly achy. As she fumbled with shaky hands to fit her keys into the front door lock, she tried to tell herself that she was simply coming down with a cold or the flu. Deep down, though, she knew that wasn’t it. _That damn curse_ , she thought, as she finally got the door open. Once inside, she sagged against it for a moment and pinched the bridge of her nose while catching her breath.

Once she felt a little more stable, she made her way into the kitchen, occasionally leaning a hand out to the wall to steady herself. Tea, she thought. I’ll make some tea. And then maybe take a nap. Or just go to bed. She sank down at the kitchen table and buried her head in her hands while waiting for the water to boil. Her vision was starting to feel a little bleary. When the kettle rang, she pulled her tea canisters down, and shook out chamomile and ginger loose leaf into her strainer. Hopefully, she thought, that would help with the nausea that was beginning to rise in her stomach.

Breathing in the steam, Regina carried the mug into the living room, where she kicked off her pumps and settled on the couch with her feet curled under her. She sipped her tea and tried to focus on the soothing taste and warmth of the beverage, instead of how increasingly off she felt. Time seemed to be moving strangely; after what she could have sworn was one blink, she looked at her clock to see that almost two hours had passed. She must have dozed off without realizing it. Looking around and trying to reorient herself, Regina felt oddly disconnected from her surroundings. The world around her tilted, and she closed her eyes again. Her headache was getting worse by the minute, and she almost felt as though her bones were buzzing. 

Bed, she thought faintly. I should just go to bed. Everything will be fine in the morning. She pushed herself to her feet, and made her shaky way across the house. Waves of nausea rolled through her as she moved, and she had to lean heavily on the banister as she climbed the stairs. So many damn stairs. Why had she picked a house with this many stairs?

By the time she was almost to her bedroom, every nerve in her body screamed as though on fire. Aborting the mission, she stumbled into the hall bathroom instead and heaved violently into the toilet, before collapsing down on the floor and pressing her head against the cool tiles. She couldn’t tell if she was burning or freezing, and absolutely everything hurt. Black spots danced in front of her, and violent spasms of pain ripped their way through her body until she thought they would tear her apart. _Oh god_ , she thought desperately. _What have I done?_

Everything grew more and more surreal, as Regina faded in and out of consciousness. She couldn’t stop the brutal tremors that continued to convulse her, and she periodically had to push herself up on weak, trembling arms to retch again into the toilet, even though there was soon nothing left in her to expel.

At some point, she began to hallucinate. Henry first, looking angry as he stood in front of her. _Leave me alone_ , he told her, _leave everyone alone_. Then: _Good wins. Good always wins. You should know that better than anyone_ , and Regina wondered if this was good winning, if this was her final punishment for all the atrocities she had committed.

Finally it was Cora. _Love is weakness_ , she said, and pulled Henry’s heart out in front of her while Regina cried out for her son. _My son_ , said Emma furiously, and Regina shook, and shook, and shook.  


	2. Chapter 2

Emma came downstairs the morning after her return from fairytale land still tired and yawning. Cross-portal jetlag was a bitch, she thought, rubbing her eyes. Still, spending the night back in a _real bed_ had been awesome. As had showering. Emma had used up almost an entire bottle of shampoo and conditioner, because the feeling of finally being able to wash her hair was so blissful that she had to just keep doing it. Putting on clean clothes was pretty great too. She was highly tempted to burn the ones she’d been stuck in for the past few weeks.

She entered the kitchen to find Henry already there, working his way through a large bowl of Lucky Charms.

“Hey, kid,” she said, trying—and failing—to suppress another yawn.

“Hi!” he said back. Emma tousled his hair as she walked over to the coffee maker, and he grinned up at her. 

“Did you eat the whole box, or is there some of that cereal left for me?” Emma gave a pointed stare to his gigantic bowl. Henry gave her a Regina-worthy look of scorn, and Emma couldn’t help but laugh at seeing the haughty mayor’s expression on her young son’s face.

“Of course there’s more. I’ve been saving it for you to come home.” He pushed the box across the counter, and Emma gave him a big grin. 

“You’re the best.” She poured herself a bowl to rival Henry’s, before dousing it with milk. They chewed in silence for a bit while Emma waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

“Emma?” Henry said, sounding hesitant. Last night Mom, today Emma, Emma thought. The poor kid was having as hard a time defining the rolls of the people in his life as she was. 

“Henry?” she said back. He made a face at her. 

“I was thinking…maybe I could have dinner with my mo—Regina sometime this week? You know, to say thank you. For saving you and Mary Margaret.”

Emma sighed, rubbed her head. She wasn’t sure if this was a conversation she wanted to have before her morning cup of coffee. “I don’t know, kid. I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. I know you say she’s changing, but…” 

“She _is_ changing. She saved you and Mary Margaret.”

“She’s the one who cast the spell on the portal in the first place.” Emma tried to speak as gently as she could. “I appreciate that she undid it, but that doesn’t really seem like change to me. I wouldn’t feel very comfortable just sending you over there.”

“We could do it at Granny’s. And you could come too. To see how she’s doing.”

There’s a conversation that would go well, Emma thought. You can see your son, but only in public and with supervision. I’m sure Regina would react really well to that.

“Please, Emma?” and Emma could see on his face how much he wanted this. “At least say you’ll think about it?”

“I’ll think about it,” Emma agreed. “But no more ambushes until I’ve had my coffee. Deal?”

“Deal!” Henry said. He gave her his best smile—that kid could light up the room with his smile, Emma thought—and she smiled back, before going to pour herself a gigantic cup of coffee. Dinner with Regina Mills, she thought. What are you getting yourself into, Swan.

 

 

Emma left not long after finishing her breakfast, wanting to check back in at the Sheriff’s station. While she was sure that David would be happy to keep handling things until she settled back in after her long absence, Emma found that she was eager to return to some sort of normal routine. She was almost looking forward to the inevitability of having to lock up a drunk Leroy.

Still not fully with it—she probably should have gone with another cup of coffee—Emma almost ran into Gold and Belle, saving herself only with a couple of awkward side steps that could easily have landed her on her ass if Belle hadn’t grabbed her arm.

“Sorry about that,” Emma said, blushing.

“No problem.” Belle laughed as she released Emma. The three stood there in mildly awkward silence.

“Happy to be back, Miss Swan?” Gold asked. Emma couldn’t help a fleeting expression of annoyance flicker across her face.

“I am,” she said. “No thanks to you,” she added under her breath. She kind of surprised herself with that last part. Last night she had been forgiving of the curse Gold and Regina had cast over the portal, more concerned with confronting Gold about the scroll in his cell and his role in her destiny. Today, though, all the anger she hadn’t let herself feel last night was starting to bubble to the surface.

“Nothing personal, dearie,” he said easily. “I was just trying to do what was best for the town by keeping Cora out. As I promised yesterday, I won’t underestimate you like that again.”

Emma knew she should disengage, but she couldn’t help continuing to lash out. “Nope, nothing personal at all. Just you and Regina almost killing us because Regina has mommy issues.” Recalling Cora, Emma wasn’t entirely sure that was fair. Fuck it, though. She was still too tired to be fair.

Gold gave her a level gaze. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, I'm afraid.”

“Isn’t it always,” Emma said. Then, under her breath again, “At least Regina had the decency to think twice about what she was doing.” Belle looked like she was going to step in to intervene, but Gold lay a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Ah, yes.” He had a strange predatory gleam in his eyes. “And how is the queen? Still with us, I hope?” At Emma’s blank look, Gold leveled her with an expression that was almost…pitying. “Magic always comes with a price, dearie,” he said. “Absorbing a death curse…well. I would imagine the price for that would be on the high side.”

Emma opened her mouth to ask what the hell he was getting at, but Gold took Belle’s arm and began to lead her away. 

“We really should be going. Give my regards to Regina, next time you see her.” With that, Gold neatly stepped around Emma and led Belle down the sidewalk, tip of his cane glinting in the sun. Emma watched them go, wondering what exactly Gold had been trying to tell her, and just how worried she should be.

 

 

 

Emma found that she couldn’t concentrate on catching up on paperwork as well as she’d hoped. Instead, staring at the piles of paper on her desk, her mind kept drifting back around to Regina. 

Though she’d never admit it, Emma had almost missed the other woman during her sojourn in fairytale land. ( _Enchanted Forest_ , she reminded herself.) It was supposed to be her home, and yet she’d spent the entire time she was there feeling completely useless and out of her element. Ogres? Giants? Scrolls with her name written over and over in magic ink? Emma didn’t know how to handle any of that.

And on top of that, there was her mother—her mother who was _the same age as her_ —giving Emma puppy-dog eyes every time Emma shied away from having a heart-to-heart, Henry acting like she walked on water, leaving Emma just waiting for the minute he would realize she was actually a bit of a fuck-up, the whole town suddenly hailing her as the Savior when Emma barely felt capable of saving herself, and…well. It was all just a bit much for Emma to process.

Regina, by comparison, was positively simplistic. A bit of verbal repartee here, a punch or two there, some generous helpings of sarcasm and eye-rolling on all sides—Emma’s relationship with Regina was a constant in a world that had suddenly turned upside down. So no matter how crazy Regina drove her, Emma couldn’t help but be grateful to have at least one thing in her life that she still understood.

(Emma emphatically _didn’t_ think about the warmth in Regina’s expression when she asked if Henry really wanted them to protect her, the humanizing fear on her face when she thought the wraith was going to take her soul, the not-entirely-cold flash she got in her eyes whenever baiting Emma. The woman was a well-respected enemy. That was _it_.)

Glancing down at her desk, Emma gave up on getting anything done when she realized that she’d spent more time thinking about Regina than doing anything work-related. Grabbing her keys, she headed back out to her Bug. (God, she’d missed that car. Driving _definitely_ trumped hiking through ogre-infested forests.)

She’d intended to head home—maybe take a nap—but instead, almost on autopilot, found herself pulling onto Mifflin Street. She’d tried calling Regina several times over the past hour, to ask about Henry’s dinner idea, but the other woman never picked up or called back, despite the repeated voicemails Emma left. Emma tried to push down the flicker of unease that started in her stomach. It wasn’t like Regina to ignore a Henry-related message.

It couldn’t hurt to just check on her, Emma thought, as she pulled into a parking spot near the house. Besides, it was probably better to talk about Henry’s request in person, instead of over the phone. It would keep Regina from just hanging up on her.

Readying herself to get her head bitten off, Emma let herself through the gate and walked up to the front door. She saw Regina’s car parked in the driveway, but despite knocking and doorbell several times, the former mayor never came to the door. _Maybe she’s still asleep_ , Emma told herself, glancing at her watch. It was midmorning, though, and Emma didn’t really peg Regina as the type to sleep in. _The shower, then_.

Emma thought about leaving—she could go take that nap—and trying again later. But now that she was already here, Emma didn’t want to psych herself up for another visit. She just wanted to get it over with. Feeling a little guilty, she jiggled the doorknob. She wasn’t expecting success, and was surprised to find that the door was, in fact, unlocked, and swung open easily. “Regina?” she called, entering the foyer and closing the door behind her. “You home?” Her voice echoed around her, and there was no answer. 

Emma moved through the lower level of the house, noting the tins of tea out on the kitchen counter—Regina would drink the expensive stuff, she thought with a snort—the half-full mug and abandoned shoes by the couch in the living room. It didn’t seem like Regina to leave a mess—however small—and Emma’s senses of unease grew.

“Regina?” she called again, winding her way up the stairs. “Regina, if you’re here, please answer me.” Still nothing. She poked her head in Henry’s room, what appeared to be a guest room, and what was clearly Regina’s room, but there was still no sign of the other woman.

Emma lingered in Regina’s room, picking up a photo album lying open on Regina’s dresser. She flipped through it slowly, feeling a pang at each milestone in her son’s life that she had missed. Next to every photo was a description and date; _Henry, 2 nd birthday _had a wide-eyed toddler behind a giant chocolate cake, _Henry, Christmas, 2003_ showed a child overwhelmed with excitement while surrounded by presents and wrapping paper.

Most of the photos were just of Henry, but there were a few candids of Henry and Regina together; Emma wondered who had taken those. Graham, maybe. She was struck by the love on Regina’s face as she looked at her son, the look of adulation Henry gave his mom, back when she was his whole world. There was Regina on her hands and knees, pushing a toy train on the floor with three-year-old Henry, Regina reading to Henry on the couch, Regina holding a baby Henry and gazing out the window, looking so blissfully content that Emma had to close her eyes for a minute.

Emma wondered when things first began to change, when Henry started looking at Regina with suspicion, instead of adoration. Seeing how happy Regina was in these photos, she thought about just how much of a knife in the heart that moment would have been. Shaking her head, Emma returned the album to Regina’s dresser and left the room.

She was about to go back downstairs when she saw the half-open bathroom door at the end of the hall. “Regina?” she asked tentatively, knocking on the door. “Regina, are you…” Emma’s voice trailed off as she pushed the door the rest of the way open, and her heart leaped in her chest.

Regina was curled in a ball on the floor, her head at the far end of the bathroom. Her eyes were closed, and her body kept violently convulsing. Emma hurried to her side, dropping down desperately next to her, taking in the paleness of Regina’s skin, her uneven breathing.

“Oh fuck,” Emma said. “Oh fuck. Regina? Can you hear me? I’m going to call an ambulance, okay?” Regina opened her eyes and tried to focus on the person crouching above her. Her eyes were bloodshot, and Emma noticed a faint trickle of blood under her nose. Rising to wet a tissue, Emma dabbed it away.

“No,” Regina told her, another spasm rippling through her. Her hand grabbed at Emma’s as Emma moved to reach for her phone, but her grip was weak.

“We need to get you to the hospital.” Emma tried to keep her voice calm.  Regina was shaking her head, dark hair a sharp contrast against the white tile floor.

“No point,” she got out. “Side effects from the curse…they can’t help.” Her voice seemed to grow weaker with every word she said, the effort of keeping her eyes open becoming increasingly difficult.

Emma flashed back to Gold’s words. _Magic always comes with a price. Absorbing a death curse…well. I would imagine the price would be on the higher side._ She shuddered. Regina had performed the magic yesterday. Did that mean…?

“How long have you _been_ like this?”

“I don’t know.” Regina's voice was faint. “It started…a few hours after you came through the portal.” It seemed to take everything she had to get out that complete sentence. “I don’t know how long ago that was. I don’t think I’ve been…conscious…the whole time.” 

They’d gotten home early evening, Emma remembered. Six, maybe? Add on a few hours, count until now, and…

“This has been happening for _thirteen hours_? Why the hell didn’t you call someone?”  A part of her knew she was being unfair, knew that yelling at the woman shuddering on her bathroom floor wasn’t the most helpful thing she could be doing.

“My phone’s in my purse, dear,” Regina whispered, closing her eyes again and giving a small smile. “I haven’t exactly—been able to get up.” 

“Okay,” Emma said, trying to sound comforting. “What do you need?”

“Nothing.”

Emma gave her an incredulous look. “Regina!”

Regina smiled faintly.

“I’m dying, Ms. Swan,” she said, her voice quiet and resigned.

“ _No_.”

“I tried fighting it all night. But I can’t…the curse is winning. My body…it’s only a matter of time, now.” She looked up, tried to focus on Emma again. “You needn’t stay,” she said, trying to insert her usual dismissive tone into the words. “There really isn’t anything you can do.” 

Emma drew Regina’s head into her lap. “I’m staying,” she said firmly. “And you are _not_ dying. You are going to _keep fighting this_. You hear me? You are…you’re one of the strongest people I know. And you are going to make it through. No way am I buying that you can’t take on some stupid little curse. I call bullshit.”

Regina gave a soft hum of what Emma hoped was amusement. Emma stroked Regina’s hair with one hand, used the other to grab one of Regina’s hands. The woman was so _cold_ , Emma thought. How could someone be this cold? “Can I at least get you to your bed?” she asked, wanting to do something, anything, other than sit here feeling helpless. Regina shook her head, closed her eyes and scrunched her face at the additional pain this caused.

“No,” she whispered. “I keep getting…sick. I need to stay here. Also moving…I think moving would be bad.”

Looking down at Regina, Emma was floored at the level of both tenderness and terror that flooded through her in equal parts. She and Regina had never exactly been…close. But in this moment, the Regina curled on the floor wasn’t the woman who had cursed an entire cast of fairytale characters into a time-frozen small town in Maine, wasn’t the woman who had separated Emma from her parents for 28 years. She wasn’t the woman who fought tooth and nail to keep Henry away from Emma, or the woman who had tried to poison Emma to get her out of the picture.

Instead, in this vulnerable, scared, and pain-wracked woman, Emma saw her son’s mother, the woman who raised Henry when she couldn’t. She saw the woman who rocked him to sleep at night, who held his hand when he took his first steps, cuddled him after nightmares. She saw the woman who rented him a bouncy house ( _Henry, 6 th birthday_), who baked him cookies, knew his favorite foods and comics. She saw the woman who would die for her son 100 times over, the woman who believed in her son enough to risk facing off with her own psychopathic, abusive mother for the chance of bringing back his other, more openly desired, parent. 

Looking at this Regina, it was impossible for Emma not to want to do whatever it took to fix her.

Emma wondered, briefly, if she should call Mary Margaret and David (her parents, she reminded herself, these people were her parents), in the hopes that they might have something to offer, some support that they could give her.

But in the end, she didn’t. Partially because she didn’t want to risk worrying Henry (should she be worrying Henry? should she be bringing him here to say goodbye oh god she didn’t want to think about him needing to say goodbye). But along with that…well, Emma doubted that either of her parents would show any particular sympathy for the Evil Queen being in trouble ( _she did cast the curse in the first place_ she remembered saying herself just a few hours ago), and, staring at Regina’s shuddering form, Emma found that she couldn’t bear the thought of their probable indifference to—or worse, pleasure in—Regina’s plight.

Emma leaned back against the tub, and readjusted Regina’s head in her lap. Regina tried to give her a reassuring smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. It showed just how far gone she was that she was letting Emma do even this much. Emma doubted that Regina ever let herself appear vulnerable in front of someone else. Particularly her arch-nemesis.

Emma tried to smile back, continuing to comb her fingers through Regina’s hair.  “It’s going to be okay,” she murmured, and she knew she’d said it so many times by now that it probably didn’t mean anything anymore, but she had to keep saying it anyway. Whether to reassure herself or Regina, she didn’t know. Regina nodded in Emma’s lap, though Emma suspected she was only humoring her. Please, she thought to herself, trying to project an image of calm and fairly certain that she was failing, please be okay.


	3. Chapter 3

Hour one. Regina faded in and out, continuing to battle hallucinations along with the physical pain and tremors that tore through her body. Emma had to choke back tears every time Regina whispered _Henry_ in her rasping voice, and she clutched Regina’s hand in support whenever Regina cried in fear over visions of her mother. “No,” she whimpered at one point, sounding so young and shaking her head in Emma’s lap, “please don’t. I promise I’ll be good, Mother. Please.”  Emma bit her lip until she drew blood.

 

Hour three. Each time Regina’s eyes closed and her breathing got too weak, Emma snapped her fingers in front of Regina’s face, forcing Regina to focus on her. “Stay with me, Regina,” she said. “You have to stay with me.” Emma talked until her voice was so hoarse she thought she couldn’t physically talk anymore, and then somehow managed to keep talking. She told Regina all of her bounty hunting stories, her adventures as a juvenile delinquent, anything and everything she could think of to keep Regina’s attention on her, keep her from drifting away.

 

Hour four. Emma was starting to feel delirious as well. Her butt was numb and her back sore from hours of sitting on the tile floor, hunched over Regina. She continued to keep the other woman’s head pillowed in her lap, and occasionally wiped her face with a washcloth hanging from a rack above her—how nice, she thought absentmindedly, that it was low enough for her to reach just by stretching her arm up, rather than having to stand. She rubbed circles on Regina’s back.

 

Hour six. Regina’s breaths were now so faint and shallow that Emma hardly dared breathe herself, worried that she wouldn’t be able to hear if Regina’s stopped. She kept a hand constantly on Regina’s side, feeling for the slight rise and fall of her ribs. “Come on, Regina,” Emma said, tilting Regina’s head and not-so-gently patting her cheek so that Regina had to open her eyes and look at her. “You have to keep fighting. Okay? Because Henry’s waiting for you. You have to be there for him, because I’m going to make you be the one to give him the sex talk, and you’re going to need to help him pick out a tux for his first prom, because let’s face it, your dress sense definitely trumps mine. He’s going to start getting crushes soon, and I don’t know how to handle that, I don’t know anything, because I’ve just been his parent for five minutes, and you’ve been his mom for his whole life. So you can’t die on us. You can’t. Okay?” Regina let out a ragged noise, and kept breathing.

 

And then, hour seven. At first, Emma thought she was imagining it when Regina’s convulsions slowly began to lessen. Then, she feared it was a bad sign, that it signaled Regina’s body finally giving up. Trying to hold back tears, Emma continued to murmur what she was pretty sure was just nonsense at this point. Her voice grew increasingly hysterical as Regina’s body began to still.

But after a while, she realized that along with the decrease of tremors, Regina’s breathing was also beginning to come more easily. Each breath she took was a little deeper, a little more even, a little less raspy. Emma stopped talking, listening intently. What felt like ages passed as Regina’s breathing began to steady, and hold. In. Out. In. Out.

Emma wasn’t sure how long she sat there after that, listening to Regina’s even breathing, praying, just praying, that maybe it was going to be okay. Emma’s eyes were starting to glaze over, her own body quivering with exhaustion, when Regina finally tilted her head to look, really look, up at Emma. Regina’s eyes were actually able to focus, and clear for the first time since Emma had arrived. Emma pressed a hand against Regina’s cheek, took note that her temperature was something more closely resembling normal.

“Hey,” Emma said, offering Regina a trembling smile.

“Hey,” Regina said back, the first word she’d uttered in over five hours. Her voice was hoarse and scratchy and so beautiful that Emma almost started to cry.

“How do you feel?” she asked gently. Regina tried to shrug, and winced.

“Everything hurts,” she whispered. “But…I think the worst is over.” She looked almost wondering as she started to reach up a hand to run through her own hair, before letting it drop almost immediately, the effort too much.

“You’re going to live?” Emma hardly dared to hope. Regina gave her a small smile.

“I’m going to live,” she confirmed. Emma let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, reflexively brushed more hair off Regina’s face.

“Good,” she said shakily. “Because I would have had to kill you if you’d died.”

Regina actually laughed at that, weakly, sure, but still a real laugh that echoed against the tiles, and it was the best thing Emma had heard all day. “Do you think you’re ready to try lying down somewhere that’s not your bathroom?” Emma asked. Regina nodded. “Okay. Let’s get you up.”  She helped Regina into a sitting position, and then, after giving her a minute to get her bearings, guided her the rest of the way up. Regina leaned against Emma as she led Regina to her bedroom. By the time Emma got her into bed, Regina felt as though she’d run a marathon. She closed her eyes as Emma pulled the blankets up around her.

Emma frowned down at Regina, noting that she was shivering a little again. “Let me get you some extra covers.” She found the linen closet in the hallway, and pulled out several blankets and a couple extra pillows. When she came back in, arms bundled high, Regina opened her eyes and quirked an eyebrow. It was amazing how sardonic she managed to look without even raising her head from the pillow.

“Feel the need to empty my entire linen closet, dear?”

Emma grinned at her. “I’m nothing if not thorough,” she quipped, and god, Regina’s smile in that moment was the most dazzling thing she could imagine. “Some of them are for me,” she explained. Regina gave a small frown.

“You don’t have to stay, you know. You have done more than your due diligence today. I’m going to be fine, now. It’s okay if you want to go.”

Emma pursed her lips and met Regina’s gaze. “Do _you_ want me to go?” she asked.

Regina gave her a long look.

 “…No,” she finally admitted, too tired and still in too much pain to lie.

“Good, then.” Emma spread two of the blankets over Regina’s bed, tucking them firmly around her, then draped the third around her own shoulders. Plumping one of the pillows against the wall, Emma sank down so she was sitting on the floor facing Regina’s side of the bed. 

Regina gave her an incredulous look. “Ms. Swan,” she said, and Emma thought to protest that after the day they’d had, surely Regina could call her by her first name. But she didn’t, because it was so utterly _Regina_ that the title actually only flooded her with relief, because she was _alive_ oh thank god she’d stayed alive. “What on earth are you doing?” 

“Borrowing a blanket and pillow?” Emma wondered guiltily if this was some special bedding that she wasn’t supposed to be using.

“I meant on the _floor_ , Ms. Swan. You just spent—how many hours in my bathroom?”

“Eight,” Emma said. “Ish.”

“Eight hours. You at least deserve a _bed_. There’s a perfectly suitable guest room down the hall.” 

Emma bit her lip, hesitated, unsure of what to say and how Regina would take it. Regina’s questioning gaze was steady, if tired, and Emma swallowed.

“I’m scared to leave,” she admitted after a long pause, her voice almost a whisper. “Even if it’s just down the hall to the guest room. I can’t…I…I need to be able to see that you’re still breathing.” She surprised herself with her own honesty, and her breath hitched at this last part.

She half-expected Regina to say something snippy, and felt her face flush with embarrassment when she looked up to meet Regina’s eyes. Regina leveled her with a look—head tilted, inscrutable, and again so _Regina_ that Emma couldn’t get enough of it.

“Stay here, then,” Regina finally told her.

“That’s what I’m doing,” Emma said, puzzled, twitching the blanket she’d wrapped around her shoulders and leaning into the pillow she’d placed against the wall. Regina sighed, and Emma got the sense that she would be rolling her eyes if she didn’t think it would hurt too much.

“No, dear. I meant up here. My bed is more than big enough to fit two people.”

“I—really?”

Regina nodded, eyes closed again. “I trust you don’t kick or steal blankets.”

Emma got up, still slightly hesitant, and crossed to the unoccupied side of Regina’s bed, settling down on top of the covers.

“You can actually get in, Ms. Swan.”

Emma was beginning to think this was some sort of body-swapped Regina. The prickly, defensive, antagonistic Regina she knew would never dream of the intimacy of letting someone spend the night in her bed. Still, she wasn’t complaining. Lying next to Regina, close enough to hear her slow, even breathing, Emma was able to relax for the first time since finding Regina on the bathroom floor. 

“Thank you for not dying,” she whispered, and let the sound of Regina’s breaths lull her into an uneasy sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Emma awoke a few hours later to the angry buzzing of her cell phone. Shit, she thought. Shit shit. Where had she put it? She’d taken it out of her pocket to lie down, but it wasn’t on the nightstand…

Emma cast a guilty look at Regina as her phone continued to buzz, but Regina continued to sleep on, seemingly undisturbed. Emma finally found her phone—under the bed, though she had no idea how it had gotten there—and saw Mary Margaret’s name flashing across the screen.

Emma managed to catch the call on the last ring. “Hello?” she whispered, tiptoeing out of Regina’s room and into the hallway.

“Emma?” Mary Margaret sounded worried. “Where on earth are you? I thought we were all meeting for dinner an hour ago. I kept texting you, but you never answered.”

Emma blinked. Dinner? She glanced down at her watch. 8pm. Jesus. She couldn’t believe she had found Regina just that morning. It already felt like a lifetime ago.

“Sorry,” she said. “I guess I lost track of time.” 

“Where _are_ you?” Mary Margaret asked again. Emma bit her lip.

“Um, at Regina’s?” 

From the silence on the other end of the line, Emma could tell that this was not what Mary Margaret had been expecting. Feeling the need to offer some sort of explanation, Emma continued, “She, uh, had a bad reaction to disarming the curse on the portal.” A hysterical giggle bubbled in the back of her throat at this gross understatement of the experience, but she choked it down. She wasn’t ready to go into full detail.

Mary Margaret still didn’t say anything. “Anyways," Emma said, "I’ve been here with her. Helping." 

Another pause, and then Emma heard a long sigh from the other end of the line.

“Oh Emma. I know you mean well, but that really isn’t your responsibility. Come home. Henry’s been asking about you all day, I know David really wants to see you—we haven’t gotten hardly any time to spend as a family yet. You should be here with us.”

Emma bristled slightly at the proprietary tone in Mary Margaret’s voice. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend time with her family—but it was still all a little overwhelming. And she definitely didn’t want to be guilt-tripped into being the dutiful daughter.

“I can’t leave Regina yet," she said. "I’m sorry about missing dinner. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I have to go now though, okay? I’ll talk to you soon.” Emma hung up quickly, not giving Mary Margaret a chance to argue. She glanced down at her phone, now seeing the string of texts from Mary Margaret, David, and Ruby. Oops. Sighing, she shoved the phone back in her pocked and tried to run her fingers through the tangles in her hair. She’d deal with all that later.

 

Really, she should have known better than to expect her long-lost mom to leave it at that.

  

Less than ten minutes after Emma had gotten off the phone, Regina’s doorbell rang.

Repeatedly.

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” Emma swore under her breath, launching herself off the bed and out of the room. She hadn’t been able to return to sleep since the phone call, but she’d settled herself back down next to Regina anyway, trying to relax again. After everything that had transpired that day, she was still exhausted.

As the doorbell rang again, Regina shifted slightly under the covers, but otherwise seemed to remain asleep. Closing the bedroom door gently behind her, Emma took the stairs two at a time to keep whoever was at the door from ringing that goddamn bell one more goddamn time.

When she flung it open, her face was flushed and her chest heaving. Mary Margaret and Henry were standing on the front porch.

“What the hell, guys.” Emma sagged against the doorframe. “One ring wasn’t enough?”

“I didn’t want you to ignore us,” Mary Margaret said primly. When Emma glowered at her, she reached forward to take one of Emma’s hands in her own. “Emma. Honey. We were worried about you. You blow off dinner, and when I finally get a hold of you, I find out that you’re _here_ —you must understand how that could be cause for concern.” 

Emma ground her teeth, and tried to find patience. “Okay,” she said. “You’re right. I get it. I should have called earlier.” Giving a worried look up the stairs—she didn’t want Regina to wake up and find herself alone—Emma opened the door wider and waved them in.

“Let’s sit, okay? And we can talk about…whatever you want to talk about.” Then she glanced at Henry. She wasn’t sure how much she wanted him to hear. 

“Hey, kid. You mind playing host and getting everyone some water? Or I bet Mary Margaret would like some cocoa, if you have it.”

“We do,” Henry said. “But I’m not supposed to make it by myself.”

“You made it great last night at Mary Margaret’s,” Emma told him. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Please?”

Henry looked suspicious, like he knew he was being got out of the way for some reason. But when Emma raised her eyebrows at him, he sighed, and turned towards the kitchen. “Fine. But don’t say anything interesting while I’m gone!”

After Henry left, Emma sat Mary Margaret down in the living room. Mary Margaret gazed around, clearly interested to actually be inside Regina’s house.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here?” she asked finally.

“I told you already,” Emma said, trying to keep a hold of her patience. “Regina got…sick…after the thing with the portal. I came by this morning to ask her about Henry and found her…um. Anyway. I stuck around to help.” 

“All day?”

 _You have no idea_ , Emma thought.

“For as long as it takes,” she said simply.

Mary Margaret eyed her, clearly sensing there were parts of the story Emma wasn’t telling.   

“It’s nice for you to be concerned. But sweetie, Regina really isn’t your responsibility. It’s not your job to take care of her.”

“Whose job is it, then?” Emma demanded. “Look, I know you guys have your…issues. But like it or not, she’s Henry’s mom.”

“ _You’re_ Henry’s mom,” Mary Margaret said firmly.

“We’re both his mom. It was wrong of me ever to pretend otherwise. And since Henry is my responsibility…well, that kind of makes Regina my responsibility too. Especially since she doesn’t have anyone else. Besides,” she continued, trying to insert some levity. “I’m the savior, right? Isn’t saving people supposed to be my job?” 

Mary Margaret raised her eyebrows and gave Emma a look. “I think you’re supposed to be saving people from her.”

Emma smiled at her.

“Well, then I’m taking it upon myself to expand my job description. Come on,” she needled. “We saved her from the Wraith…”

“And got sent to the Enchanted Forest!”

“…and the mob that formed after the curse broke. Why is this so different?”

Mary Margaret shook her head, still looking concerned. “I don’t know, Emma. How do you know this isn’t some sort of ploy to get your guard down, and get closer to Henry?”

Emma thought back to Regina trembling on the floor, the sad smile she’d offered up. _I’m dying, Ms. Swan._

“Believe me,” Emma said grimly. “This is not a ploy.” When Mary Margaret still looked unconvinced, Emma threw her hands up into the air. “She absorbed a death curse, Mary Margaret! For us. And you—god, what it did to her…” Emma trailed off and rubbed a hand against her head.

“What did it do to her?”

The fear-filled, high-pitched question came not from Mary Margaret, but rather, from Henry. Emma’s head shot up, startled, to see him standing in the doorway, clutching the mug of cocoa Emma had asked him to make. _Shit_ , Emma thought, wondering how much he’d heard.

“Is my mom okay?” Henry asked, his eyes wide. Emma opened her mouth, but no sound came out. God. This was not how she’d been planning on explaining things to Henry.

“Kid…” she said helplessly. Tears filled Henry’s eyes, and he dropped the mug, porcelain and cocoa shattering and spilling on the floor, before taking off down the hall and slamming the door to Regina’s study.

Emma turned and gave Mary Margaret a firm look. “You,” she said, gesturing to the mess, “deal with that. I’m sure there are some towels and a dustbin around here somewhere. I am going to go deal with that.” Pushing herself up off the couch and gritting her teeth, Emma followed Henry.

 

 

She knocked on the door tentatively before letting herself into the study. Henry was sitting on one of the couches, his eyes red-rimmed.

“I’m not supposed to be in here without my mom’s permission.”

Emma blinked. That wasn’t what she had been expecting him to open with. She wondered if Henry choosing this room to shut himself in had been some kind of statement, daring Regina to come yell at him.

“I think it’s okay just this once,” Emma told him.  She tentatively crossed the room to sit next to him on the couch, and the two regarded each other silently. Damn it, Emma thought. She had no idea how to have this conversation.

In the end, Henry spoke first. “Is my mom dead?” he asked, clearly trying not to cry.  “Is that what you’re not telling me?”

“What? No. Henry. No. Of course she’s not dead.”

“Is she going to die?” Resolutely not meeting Emma’s eyes, Henry looked younger than she’d ever seen him.

“Oh, kid.” Emma's heart was breaking at the look on his face. “No. She’s not going to die.”

“You’re lying.” Henry swallowed hard, looked up at her defiantly. “You’re just saying that because that’s what grownups are supposed to say.”

“I’m not lying.”  

When Henry still looked disbelieving, she sighed. “Full truth?” Henry nodded, looking scared. “Okay. Your mom was in really bad shape earlier. It’s true that she came pretty close to dying. But she made it. I’m not going to lie to you—she’s still very sick, and it’s going to take her a while to get all the way better. But I’m going to stay with her and make sure she does. And I can absolutely, one hundred percent promise you that she’s no longer in danger of dying.”

Henry sniffed, and Emma reached over to take his hand. “You know what made her pull through?” Henry shook his head, looking down at the coffee table. Emma tilted his chin up so that he was looking at her. “You,” she told him. “She kept fighting because she didn’t want to leave you.”

Henry’s eyes filled with tears. “She doesn’t even know I love her. She could have died, and I never even told her I loved her.”

“She knows, kid,” Emma said, and Henry took a shuddering breath. “I promise she knows.” 

“Can I see her?” he asked, sounding quiet and scared. Emma thought about Regina’s pale, still form in the bed upstairs, looking so utterly unlike herself, and worried that Henry seeing her like this would just make him more worried. But looking at his trembling lip, she could tell that no matter how many reassurances she offered, Henry wouldn’t really believe that Regina was actually alive until he saw her with his own eyes.

“Yeah, you can see her. You have to be quiet, though, okay? I think she’s still sleeping.”

Henry nodded silently. He took Emma’s hand as they walked up the stairs and down the hallway to Regina’s room, and in that moment, Emma was struck again by how young he looked. With all the craziness they’d been through, sometimes it was easy to forget he was just a kid.

Emma wasn’t sure if they weren’t as quiet as they were trying to be, or if Regina had some sort of sixth sense when it came to her son, but as soon as they entered the room, her eyes flickered open.        

“Henry,” she breathed. She pushed herself up so that she was leaning on one elbow, and Emma’s heart constricted at how much effort that tiny movement clearly cost.

“Mom!” Henry cried, and threw himself at her. Regina winced slightly as he squeezed her, but shook her head over his shoulder when it looked like Emma was going to intervene. She wrapped her arm around him held him tight. “I thought you were dead,” he said, the words muffled into her neck. Regina continued to rub comforting circles on his back.

“I’m okay, sweetheart,” she said, holding him close. “I’m okay.”

Looking at mother and son, Emma couldn’t help but feel as though she were intruding on a private moment. She offered Regina a smile, and mouthed _I’ll be back in a minute_. Backing out the door, she made her way downstairs to finish her conversation with Mary Margaret. 


	5. Chapter 5

What Emma had hoped would be a civilized talk turned into a shouting match (albeit a muted one, Emma ever conscious of Henry and Regina upstairs), which only ended when Emma suddenly burst into tears. This surprised herself even more than Mary Margaret; Emma had never been one to shy away from conflict. She supposed her exhaustion, combined with everything that had happened today, was finally catching up with her.

“Oh Emma,” Mary Margaret said, as Emma sank down onto the kitchen floor and bawled. She sat down on the floor next to Emma and wrapped her arm around her daughter. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She rubbed Emma’s shoulder, while Emma buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

When she was finally able to calm down a little, she looked up at Mary Margaret with a tear-streaked face. “She almost died today,” Emma said, her voice still wobbly. “I was here for eight hours with her almost dying, and I was dealing with it all by myself because I didn’t think anyone would care, and it was _terrifying_. And I know you don’t understand _why_ that was so terrifying for me—hell, I’m not even sure _I_ understand why it was so terrifying—but it was, and I need you to get that, and not judge me, or make me feel like I’m crazy, or being manipulated, and I just…I need you to be on my side. Even if you don’t understand it. Just be on my side.”

“Okay.” Mary Margaret's voice was soft. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I may not fully understand, but I am on your side. You’re my daughter, and I will _always_ be on your side. I promise.” She looked genuinely contrite, and Emma sniffed.

“Thank you."

“What can I do?” Mary Margaret asked. “How can I help you?”

“I need to stay here for a while.” Emma struggled to get herself back under control. “I don’t know exactly how long. At least a week, I would guess. Probably longer. Would you—will you watch Henry? And pack me a bag? I don’t need it tonight. But maybe bring it by sometime tomorrow?” She cast a tentative look at Mary Margaret, wondering if the woman’s—her mother’s—face would show any anger at Emma’s request. But Mary Margaret looked at her calmly, a soft smile on her face.

“Of course.” She continued to rub Emma’s arm, and Emma leaned her head against Mary Margaret’s shoulder. “Whatever you need.”  

Emma let herself sit there for another minute, before taking a deep, shuddering breath and pushing herself up. “I should go check on Henry and Regina,” she said. “And let Henry know what the plan is.”

Mary Margaret caught Emma’s hand and squeezed it, and Emma gave her a watery smile.

“Thank you,” she said again. “I…thank you.”

  

\---

 

When Emma got back upstairs, it was to find Henry sitting on the edge of Regina’s bed, holding one of her hands. Regina was still propping herself up and talking with him, but Emma could tell that her strength was waning fast.

“Hey, Henry. Time to let your mom get some rest.” Henry looked reluctant to leave Regina’s side, and Emma offered him a reassuring smile. “You can visit with her again later, I promise.”

“Yeah?” Henry said, looking at Regina for confirmation. She nodded.

“Yes, sweetheart. Go with Emma now. I’ll see you again soon.”

Henry still looked hesitant, but got up obediently, kissing Regina’s cheek before following Emma out into the hall. Emma wrapped an arm around his shoulders as she led him down the stairs.

“All right, kid. I’m going to be staying with your mom until she gets better. David and Mary Margaret—uh, your grandparents—are going to take care of you. I want you to be good for them, okay?”

Henry stopped dead in the middle of the stairs. He looked up at Emma, and his face was the most stubborn she’d ever seen it.

“I want to stay with you and Mom.” 

Emma couldn’t say she hadn’t been expecting it. Henry wasn’t exactly the type to just cave to being left out. Especially when _both_ his moms were involved. Still, though, Emma felt reluctant to give in. Things were going to be hard enough just with Regina. She didn’t think she’d be able to be a great mom to Henry at the same time.

“Henry…”

“I can help!” he insisted. “I promise I won’t get in the way, or be any extra work. I need to be here, Emma. Please?” Now he looked desperate.

Emma opened her mouth to argue, and then shut it again. She thought about Henry’s stricken face in Regina’s study, the tremor in his voice when he asked if his mom was dead. She thought about how tightly he’d hugged Regina, and the strength Regina’s answering hug, even though she couldn’t even properly sit up. Emma knew that if she tried to send Henry back with Mary Margaret, he would just spend the whole time worried sick. And for all that he was just a kid, Henry likely could be a help. He knew Regina better than she did, after all, and might have a sense for the sort of things she liked when she was sick. 

One of which, quite frankly, was most likely Henry. Emma pictured the look in Regina's eyes when Henry had come into her room. Being able to see him more regularly would probably be good for her. 

“Okay,” she said finally. “But you have to promise you’ll do whatever I say, all right?” Henry nodded eagerly. “Mary Margaret’s going to pack me a bag. Do you need to pack one too, or do you still have enough stuff here?”

“I still have enough here.”  

“All right. I’ll let her know the change in plans. Now go get ready for bed. It’s already late. I’ll come check in on you in a bit, after I’ve got your mom settled.” 

Henry threw his arms around Emma’s waist, and squeezed tightly. She wrapped her arms around him in return.

“Thanks, Emma,” he told her. She nodded at him, and rested her chin on his head in the way she had seen Regina do countless times. It felt foreign, but motherly at the same time. 

Henry gave her one last squeeze, and scampered down the hall to his room. Emma rubbed her forehead. She was more than ready for this day to be over. 

\---

 

Regina let her head fall back onto her pillow as soon as Henry left the room. Around ten minutes of barely even propping herself up, and she was beyond worn out. Her body also continued to ache. She closed her eyes, and tried to breathe through it.

She felt, more than heard, Emma come back into the room sometime later, and somehow managed to open her eyes, tilting her head on the pillow as she watched Emma approach. Emma was moving carefully, one hand wrapped around a too-full glass of water, the other hidden behind her back. Regina raised her eyebrows.

“You need to drink something,” Emma said, holding out the glass. “And then I’ll let you go back to sleep. But the last thing we need right now is you getting dehydrated on top of…well, everything.”

Regina eyed the proffered water. “I think I used all my sitting up on Henry,” she admitted.

“I thought you probably did,” Emma said solemnly. “Which is why I found…this!” Emma pulled her other hand out from behind her back, brandishing an elaborate purple twisty straw, which she dropped into the water glass with a flourish. Regina couldn’t help but laugh, before trying to school her face into an expression of mock-scorn.

“A twisty straw, Ms. Swan? Really?”

“Henry found it for me. Apparently you have a whole drawer full of them, in pretty much every color of the rainbow.” 

Regina smiled, a slightly wistful look in her eyes. “He loved them when he was little. I was always on the hunt for new ones. Even after he grew out of them, I still couldn’t make myself throw them away.” 

Emma smiled back, though, as usual, her heart twisted a little hearing about the young Henry she’d never gotten to know. “Well,” she said, trying to keep her voice cheery, “it’s a good thing you did. Now drink your water like a big girl, Regina.”

“A big girl drinking out of a twisty straw.”

“A twisty straw that means you don’t have to sit up to drink.”  Emma crouched down on the floor next to the bed, and tilted the straw toward Regina, who sipped obediently. “All of it,” Emma said, when it looked like Regina was going to stop. “Or I’ll have to take you to the hospital to stick you with IVs, and I’m guessing you don’t want that.”

Regina gave her a look, but finished the water. By the time she was done, her eyes were starting to droop.

“Good,” Emma said. Regina let out a tiny snort. 

“You know you’ve hit a new low when finishing a glass of water counts as an accomplishment.” She aimed for wry, but it came out mostly just sounding exhausted.

Emma gave Regina a once over. She was still really pale, and had a faint sheen of sweat on her brow. Emma laid a hand against her forehead, noting that she was more than a little warm. Definite fever. Emma wasn’t sure if that was better or worse than the deathly cold she’d been earlier.

Regina leaned her head into Emma’s cool touch, and Emma frowned.

“How’s the pain now?”

“It’s okay.” By the furrow between her eyes and the way she winced at the slightest movement, Emma could tell she was lying. “I’m just really tired.”

“You can go back to sleep soon. I would like you to take some Advil for that fever first, though. Think you can last a few more minutes?”

Regina hummed, though Emma could tell that she was struggling to stay awake. Emma refilled the water glass and retrieved the pills quickly—she was glad to find some in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom—but when she returned, Regina seemed to have fallen asleep. Emma shook her shoulder gently, and Regina opened her eyes reluctantly.

“Almost,” Emma promised her. Regina let Emma pop the pills in her mouth, and sipped again from the water. She seemed to have a slightly hard time getting them down from her prone position—Emma hovered anxiously, wondering if she should be worried about choking—but managed in the end. “There you go,” Emma said. She laid a hand against Regina’s cheek, hoping the touch was soothing. Regina made a quiet sound of appreciation. 

“You’ll stay?” she whispered.

“Yeah. I’ll stay.” She smiled down at Regina. “You know,” she said playfully, “I never would have pegged you as a patient invalid, Madam Mayor.”

Regina let out a small huff of laughter. “Give me a week, dear,” she mumbled sleepily. “I’m sure I’ll regain my general impatience soon enough.”

“I look forward to it,” Emma said dryly.

What Emma meant, but didn’t say, was that she would never have pegged Regina as capable of being so…well, needy wasn’t the right word. Affectionate? Grateful? Vulnerable? Willing to accept help? None of those were quite right either, but perhaps, Emma thought, all together they did a better job at describing the enigma that was the Regina currently in front of her. The Regina who told jokes, who looked genuinely happy whenever Emma entered the room, who offered Emma real laughter instead of the mocking tone she’d always been treated to in the past.

Emma remembered what Regina had been like right after she’d rescued her from the fire, before the curse broke. Touchy, bitchy, willing to complain about anything, and completely and utterly incapable of saying the words “thank you.” Frankly, Emma had been spending a fair amount of time today wondering if that Regina was going to come back out to play. She supposed it was still a possibility. Maybe Regina just wasn’t feeling well enough yet to bring out the bitchy.

But somehow, Emma doubted it. Maybe Regina had matured. Maybe it was because her relationship with Emma was no longer quite so antagonistic. Or maybe it was due to the intimacy of the situation. Emma had been pretty damned vulnerable herself throughout this whole thing. She remembered Regina’s inscrutable look after Emma confessed she needed to watch Regina keep breathing, the way Regina had then offered up half her bed. In the back of her head, Emma wondered when the last time was that someone had saved Regina because they valued her life, rather than because it was what “good” people did. She thought about the look in Regina’s eyes when they told her Henry had asked them to keep her safe from the angry mob, and guessed it had been a long time.

Coming out of her reverie, Emma noted that Regina had slipped into sleep. She stayed with her for several more minutes, making sure Regina was well and truly out, before tucking the covers more tightly around her and going to check on Henry.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly a filler chapter, leading us up to the end (which I have mostly written, so hopefully it will be a faster update).

 

 

\---

That was the most coherent Regina got for close to a week, as the fever claimed her. She spent the time mostly asleep, half-rousing only when Emma periodically shoved more water in her face. She was even too out of it to take note of Henry, who spent the days curled in the armchair in Regina’s room, as though guarding his mother. He would have spent nights there as well, but Emma told him he would just make things harder if he made himself sick from lack of sleep. So at his usual bedtime, he let Emma tuck him into his own bed—it was actually really nice, he thought, to be back in his old room—and tried to believe her when she told him that everything was going to be all right. He also pretended not to notice that while Emma took naps during the day in the guestroom down the hall (a luxury she wouldn’t have permitted herself if she didn’t have Henry there to keep an eye on Regina—every time she lay down in the guest bed, she was profoundly, supremely grateful she’d agreed to let him stay), she spent each night in Regina’s room. A part of Henry wanted to protest that she wasn’t following her own advice about getting enough sleep (the daytime naps weren’t exactly lengthy), but the rest of him was just relieved that there was someone there to watch his mom, even if Emma wouldn’t let him do it.

Henry spent large parts of his vigils remembering how things had been with his mom before he realized she was the Evil Queen. He remembered the nights when they “camped” in a tent in the backyard, and the gingerbread houses they decorated at Christmas. He remembered her taking him fishing at the docks, shopping with him for his favorite comics, putting glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. He remembered telling Emma that Regina only pretended to love him, and his stomach twisted.

 

Most of Regina’s sleep was restless, plagued by nightmares. During the day, Henry would vacate his seat in the armchair to curl up next to Regina in bed, remembering how she had done the same when he was plagued with his own bad dreams. Her presence had always soothed him, and now, his seemed to do the same to her.

The first time Emma watched Henry lay his head on Regina’s shoulder when she whimpered in her sleep, Emma’s heart constricted. This shouldn’t be a side of his mother that Henry had to see. But while much else of Regina’s condition clearly troubled Henry, the nightmares, at least, he seemed to take in stride. 

“She’s had them for as long as I can remember,” he told Emma matter-of-factly. “She always pretended she didn’t, if I tried to ask her about them the next morning. But I could hear her from down the hall.” He looked away. “I used to get mad at her for it. I thought it was just another example of her lying to me.”

“I’m sure she was just trying to protect you.” Emma tried to make her voice as gentle as possible. Henry nodded, looking guilty, and Emma wished she could think of some magic words that could wipe that look off his face. She settled for a hug instead, hoping that it at least helped some. He leaned into her.

“I got nightmares too, when I was little,” he said. “Really bad ones. Sometimes she me let me sleep in her room with her, but mostly she came and slept in my bed with me instead. She said she wanted to make my room safe, that she would scare away any monsters so that they wouldn’t come back.” 

Emma smiled at the thought of Regina scaring off imaginary monsters. Night terrors probably didn’t stand a chance against the Evil Queen. “That sounds nice. I wish I’d had someone to do that when I was a kid.” 

“After I got the book, I started having dreams about her being the Evil Queen. I didn’t tell her about the book, but I told her to go away when she tried to come in.” Henry swallowed hard. “But I kept having the nightmares, as soon as I fell back to sleep. So one night she asked if it would help if she stayed on my floor. That way she wouldn’t be crowding me, but would still be there if I needed her.” Henry looked up at Emma, his eyes troubled. “She slept on my floor almost every night for a long time, until the nightmares stopped. No matter how much we fought during the day, or what I said to her, or how mad she got about something. She still slept on my floor.” He bit his lip. “I miss her. I’m still mad at her for a lot of things, but…she’s still my mom.” He looked hesitant. “Does that…does that make you feel bad?” 

“Oh, kid,” Emma breathed. “No. Of course you miss her. She raised you your whole life, and I know how much she loves you. I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to choose between us, okay? We’re both your moms, and it’s okay for you to love both of us. It’s _good_ that you love both of us. You don’t ever have to worry that caring about Regina will hurt my feelings. I promise.” She pulled him closer to her, and Henry sniffed.

“I just want her to be okay.” His voice was quiet and shaky.

“She will be,” Emma tried to reassure him. “I promise she will be.”

\---

At night, it was Emma’s turn to calm Regina. At first, Emma tried to wake her from the nightmares, shaking Regina’s shoulder until she pulled her—however reluctantly—out of sleep. But eventually, taking her cues from Henry, Emma learned that she could soothe Regina out of the dreams just by placing a hand on her head, and murmuring gently to her. She’d watch the way the tension in Regina’s face would dissipate, the wrinkles on her forehead smoothing out, frown softening into something more relaxed. The whimpers would fade, her body would still.

Emma sat on top of the bed next to Regina while doing this—after that first day, she had not presumed to invite herself actually into Regina’s bed. Usually, Regina would curl back into herself after Emma had calmed her. Sometimes, though—generally after the worst dreams—she would roll over in her sleep and nestle her head against Emma’s thigh. Emma rubbed her shoulder gently, allowing Regina to relax into her.

 

Regina’s fever broke on the fifth day, and though she was still too weak to sit up, she was finally able to stay awake for longer than a couple odd minutes at a time. Henry had to resist throwing himself at her the first time she woke up and smiled at him—Emma had told him that Regina was probably still kind of hurting, and warned him in advance to be gentle—and instead offered her his own best smile in return, before going over and giving her a gentle hug. He took note of the relief in Emma’s eyes when she came in to find them talking—he’d been starting to think that the worry-lines around her eyes were permanent. 

Emma, for her part, was so thankful she thought she might cry. Despite her promises to Henry—and Regina’s early promise to her—Emma had been beginning to question if Regina really would recover. After Henry left, Emma perched on the edge of Regina’s bed and offered her a watery smile.

“Welcome back. Feeling any better?” 

“A bit,” Regina said. “Though I do still feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.” She flashed one of those smiles that Emma was starting to think she could drown in. “But at least a slightly smaller truck than before. Maybe one of these days it will just be a car.”

“Or a bike,” Emma offered. Regina gave a low chuckle.

“I look forward to the day when I feel like I have only been run over by a bicycle.”

From there, Regina’s progress grew steadier. Emma started allowing herself to sleep at night, and was able to convince Henry to leave the house sometimes with Mary Margaret and David. The first day Regina was able to sit up and drink a mug of chicken broth, Emma and Henry were both so excited that Regina had to laugh.

“It’s good to know you’re so easily entertained,” she said dryly. “I’m sure it will save me lots of effort in the future.” Henry and Emma grinned at her. 

\--- 

One afternoon, not long after Regina began spending parts of her day sitting up, Henry came into her room with a brown shopping bag.

“Gramps got me _Howl’s Moving Castle_ from the bookstore,” he said. “Have you read that?”

“No.” Regina smiled at him. “I haven’t.”

“Emma said it’s really good.” Henry hesitated, looking at her. Though he was pleased it was a sitting-up-day, Regina still seemed exhausted. He shuffled his feet and cast her a tentative look.

“You used to read to me when I was sick.”

“Yes,” Regina said simply, not sure what else to add. It still hit her hard any time Henry brought up a time they had been happy together, a time when he thought she was a good mom.

“It made me feel better.” Henry was looking down as he spoke, and when he glanced up at her, she could see uncertainty in his eyes. “Do you…I could read some of this to you. If you want.”

Regina felt her throat constrict, and it took a bit before she could talk. She offered him a quivering smile, hoped there weren’t tears in her eyes. 

“I would love that.” She patted the bed next to her, and Henry climbed up, nestling into her side. Regina wrapped her arm around him, pulling him closer. She leaned her head against his, breathed in his scent. How long had it been since he’d come to her like this? He’d been distant for at least a year before Emma came to town. She took a slightly shuddering breath. “Henry…” she started. “I’m sorry for the way things have been. I know that I haven’t been the mom you deserve. There’s so much I wish I could do over. I always told myself that I would never be anything like my own mother, and I know in some respects I’ve failed. I’m sorry for making you feel crazy when you first started having suspicions about the curse, and for trying to keep you away from Emma. I truly did believe that I was protecting you by keeping the curse intact, but I can see now that I was wrong. I promise I’ll do everything I can do win your trust back.” She sniffed, trying to regain her composure. “I love you more than anything,” she whispered into his hair. “You know that, right?”

“I know. I love you too.”

Regina blinked back the tears that were coming closer and closer to falling.

“Let’s hear that book,” she said finally, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. She could feel Henry nod under her head, and he opened the small paperback.

“‘In the land of Ingary,’” he began, “‘where such things as seven-league boots and cloaks of invisibility really exist, it is quite the misfortune to be born the eldest of three.’” 

Regina closed her eyes, and let her son’s voice wash over her, never wanting this moment to end.


	7. Chapter 7

With Emma’s help, Regina was finally able to take baths (showers, though she missed them, were still out of the question, as Regina’s current record for standing up was about a minute and a half), which made her feel more human than almost all of the other progressions she’d made combined. She was, at first, slightly discomfited to need Emma’s assistance, but ultimately decided that almost dying on someone for eight hours was actually a much more intimate experience than having the aforementioned person see you naked.  And the desire to be _clean_ trumped any lingering embarrassment.

Every night, after her bath, Henry came and curled into her on the bed. His reading to Regina had turned into a routine, one that both mother and son treasured. He’d looked askance at her when the Witch of the Waste first came into play—apparently he hadn’t actually read the book’s summary—but she’d just smiled at him, and told him to keep going.

Tonight, Regina had her arm around Henry, and he was leaning his head against her shoulder while he read, and Regina had that soft smile she got on her face whenever she spent time with Henry. Standing in the doorway, Emma’s heart skipped in her chest as she stared at how peaceful they looked. 

Emma waited until Henry finished the chapter before knocking on the doorframe to announce her presence. “Time for bed, kid.”

“One more chapter?” he pleaded. Emma shook her head.

“Nope. It’s late. And even if _you_ aren’t tired, your mom needs sleep. Remember our deal?” Henry rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Good. Now scoot. I’ll come with and tuck you in.”

Henry gave her a withering look. “I’m eleven. I don’t need to be tucked in anymore.”

“Then how would I know you’ve actually gotten in bed? Come on. Up up up.”

Henry heaved a dramatic sigh, before giving Regina a hug and scrambling off the bed. Emma ruffled his hair—earning another dramatic eyeroll—before following him out.

 

\---

 

Emma returned about fifteen minutes later with a tall glass of water and two painkillers. “Your nightly meds, Madam Mayor,” she said, handing them to Regina. Regina smiled at her.

“Did he keep giving you a hard time?”

“Some grumbling. And he’s probably reading under the covers with a flashlight right now. But pick your battles, right?” 

An awkward silence spread to fill the room. Emma had been aloof and a little snippy these past few days, and Regina wasn’t sure what was wrong, or how to try and fix it. Tired of playing nursemaid, maybe. She couldn’t say she blamed her. 

That first day, after Emma had helped Regina to her bed, Regina had considered trying to drive Emma away. Surely Emma saving her life (for how many number of times now? It was really getting rather ridiculous) was enough vulnerability. Letting Emma be present for what she already knew would be an unpleasant recovery would just be overkill.

And yet, before Regina had even fully formulated this thought, her mind turned back to Emma’s gentle fingers running through her hair during those awful, awful hours, the low cadence of her voice as she talked Regina through the worst of the pain. When was the last time someone had been that tender with her? Graham—and any man she’d been with back in the Enchanted Forest—had just been sex. Leopold had been…well. She tried never to let herself think about what Leopold had been. 

She supposed there was Snow, that time Regina was disguised as a peasant and got an arrow (or was it a sword? She couldn’t remember anymore) to the leg. But that didn’t count, because Snow hadn’t known Regina’s true identity.

Daniel, then. The last time someone had touched Regina with any sort of warmth had been Daniel. Which, Regina thought, maybe actually meant that she _should_ go through with pushing Emma away, because things with Daniel hadn’t exactly ended well. Either time.  But she couldn’t make herself do it. She craved honest affection the way she craved hugs and smiles from Henry, and maybe, just maybe, almost dying (for whatever number of times it was) was a sign that she should stop being so fucking stubborn and just let herself be happy. Or at least try. Because she was so, so tired of always being alone.

_Then love again._

And yes, maybe Regina had forgotten, over the course of many long years, how to love well. But she could relearn. For Henry. For herself. For the possibility of a friendship with the woman who kept saving her life for absolutely no reason Regina could discern. Try. 

With the current distance that had sprung between her and Emma, Regina was beginning to wonder about the success of her efforts. She watched Emma fidget and refuse to meet her eyes while Regina drank the water and took the pain meds, and tried not to think about Emma leaving. Maybe being happy wasn’t actually in the cards.

“You know,” she said finally, trying to alleviate the tension in the room, “If I’d known that the key to winning my son back was cursing _myself_ , I would have done it ages ago.” She said it lightly, meaning it as a joke, and waited for Emma’s answering chuckle. Instead, Emma took in a deep hissing breath, and whipped her head around furiously to meet Regina’s gaze.

“Don’t you _dare_ joke about that,” she said. “Don’t you _ever_ —do you have _any_ idea what it was like? Sitting on that fucking bathroom floor for eight fucking hours, thinking that at any minute you were going to die in my lap, and knowing there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it? Wondering what the hell I would tell Henry? Do you know he cried himself to sleep that first night, saying ‘I made her do it, it’s my fault’? Because until you can _begin_ to conceive of just how much of a hell you put us through, you. don’t. get. to joke.”

Regina blinked at her, taken aback by Emma’s outburst. Clearly, this had been brewing under the surface for a while. She met Emma’s fuming gaze with her own calmer one, held it until Emma took a few steadying breaths and came to sit on the edge of Regina’s bed.

“Feel better?” Regina asked softly. Emma nodded mutely. “How long have you been waiting to say that?”

“A while.” Emma was starting to look slightly shame-faced.

“I’m sorry,” Regina said.  “I didn’t realize…I’m sorry.”

Emma swallowed hard, shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my entire life,” she whispered, looking down at her hands. “Even when Henry…at least then, there was something I could _do_. I could focus on being angry, and then determined, and just…not let myself be scared. I didn’t have _room_ to be scared. But this…I was so fucking _helpless_. And…fuck, the nightmares that I still have. I’ve spent…more nights than you probably care to know sitting on that armchair in here, because it’s the only way I can get back to sleep. Even if it’s a fitful, sitting up sort of sleep. It still trumps the damn dreams. Being in the same room as you…it’s the only way I can close my eyes and not see that fucking bathroom. And I get that it wasn’t exactly a picnic for you either—” Regina snorted at the understatement, and Emma shot her a look before continuing—“But…so help me god, Regina, if you _ever_ pull a stunt like that again I will kill you myself.”

Regina fought to hold back a quip along the lines of _Why Ms. Swan, I didn’t know you cared_. Judging from the expression on Emma’s face, it wouldn’t go over well. Instead, the two women sat in silence, Emma fiddling with one of her necklaces, Regina toying with her sheets. 

“For what it’s worth…I didn’t know that it would be like that,” Regina finally offered. “That violent, that—I didn’t know. I don’t know if that helps. But I didn’t intend to put you through that.” She stared at Emma, who continued to keep her gaze focused on her lap.

“Did you know it could kill you?” Emma still wouldn’t look at Regina, who chewed her lip in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture.

“I…entertained it as a possibility. It was a death curse, after all. I just thought that if it were going to happen, it would happen more quickly. And…civilly.” When Emma turned her head to glare at her, Regina shrugged helplessly. “What was I supposed to do? If I hadn’t drawn it off, it could have killed _you_. I thought I’d at least leave Henry with the mother he wanted. Besides, I was partially responsible for the curse in the first place—”

“Gold cast it,” Emma interrupted, clearly still furious with the man.

“Yes. But I was there, and didn't stop him. Didn't even try. And I was the one who knew better. I was the one who promised Henry—well.  My point being, it was only fair for me to take on the curse. It was my responsibility. And…it was only a possibility that it would kill me. It was a certainty that it would kill you.”

“And if it had been Cora to make it through instead of Mary Margaret and me? What then? You would have left Henry with a psychotic grandmother, and neither of his mothers to keep him safe?” 

“I admit it wasn’t necessarily the best thought-out plan. But then, neither was letting Gold convince me the curse was our best option. I should…you’d think I’d be better at resisting his manipulations, by now.” Then, more quietly, “I just wanted to make Henry happy, Emma. I truly am sorry.”

“I know,” Emma said, expelling a deep breath. “I know you are.” Silence spread out in the room again. 

“What you said about being helpless…” Regina said after a long moment. “That’s not true. You saved my life. I thought—I thought you knew that.”

Emma blinked at her, finally looking up to meet Regina’s gaze. Regina took a moment to gather her thoughts. 

“You…made me keep holding on,” she explained. “You wouldn’t let me stop breathing. I couldn’t have done that for myself. I was…very close to letting go, when you found me.”

Emma swallowed past the tears that were starting to form in her eyes.  Trying to lighten the tone, she offered Regina a teasing smile. “Madam Mayor, is this your roundabout way of saying thank you?”

Regina blushed. “Partly,” she said. Emma waited, but Regina didn’t continue. 

“And the other part…?” she prompted.

“The other part is me asking—in my ‘roundabout way’—why you were so intent on keeping me alive.” Regina cast a tentative look at Emma. “You can’t deny that things would be…easier…if I weren’t in the picture.”

“Regina.” 

“It’s true, dear.” A sad smile played across Regina’s lips. “I’ve done nothing but make your life hell since you got here. Including trying to poison you. You should have been rejoicing.”

“Is that really what you think?” 

Regina swallowed. “Yes,” she whispered.

“What about Henry?” Emma demanded. “Did you even bother to tell him what the curse would do to you?” 

“Of course not. I didn’t—I didn’t want him to feel like he had to choose. So I…gave him what I knew he would want, without saddling him with the guilt of picking which one of us should live. And he…would have gotten over it. Eventually.” Regina wound her fingers together, and Emma frowned at her.

“Henry would _never_ have gotten over it. His mom dying because of something he asked her to do? He would never have forgiven himself. That’s not a fair burden to put on a kid. If you really don’t get that, then you’re not nearly as smart as I thought you were.” 

“I’m not his mom.” Regina sounded broken.

“ _Bullshit_. You are his mom. You will _always_ be his mom. I know I haven’t been supportive of that, but…you _are_. Regina. Look at me?” Regina looked up reluctantly. “Henry loves you. No matter what mean things he says. He’s just a kid. He’s going to be a little shit sometimes. That’s what kids do. Especially to their moms. And yeah, you guys might still have some stuff you need to work through, but that doesn’t mean you’re not his mom. You are. And he loves you. Okay? So no more doing stupid crap because you feel like you need to prove something.” 

Regina sniffed. “Okay,” she said quietly.

Emma looked at her downcast expression. “Can I sit?”

“You are sitting, Ms. Swan.” Regina made an effort to recover some of her usual snark. “Unless there’s some new definition of sitting I’m not aware of…”

“Yeah, yeah. You know what I mean.” Regina looked at her for a moment, then nodded.

“Boots off.”

“What do you take me for, some sort of heathen?” Emma asked indignantly.

“If the _boot_ fits…" 

Emma rolled her eyes and pulled off her boots, then climbed all the way onto the bed, so that she was sitting next to Regina, shoulders almost-but-not-quite touching, back leaning against the headboard and legs stretched out in front of her.

“Here’s the thing,” she said after a minute. “You’re infuriating, and arrogant, and condescending, and can possibly sometimes be the biggest bitch ever.”

“If this is your idea of a pep talk, they need work, dear.”

“You’re better at pushing my buttons than anyone I’ve ever met, and yeah, okay, there’s that whole you-tried-to-poison-me thing, and I’m not sure I even want to know just how many times you’ve tried to kill my mom. Your refusal to call people by their first names is practically pathological…”

“It’s called _respect_. Feel free to try it sometime.”

“…and you are capable of looking more scornful and disdainful than pretty much anyone else on the planet. You have ‘making people feel like idiots’ down to a science.” Emma paused for a moment. “And yet,” she continued, “somehow, you managed to worm your way under my skin. There’s that smirk you get when you’re winding me up just to wind me up, and your ridiculous posture, and the way your eyes light up whenever Henry hugs you. There’s the fact that you dress like you’re going to some kind of important business meeting even when you’re actually only going to the grocery store, and the way you move in your billions of pairs of high heels. There’s the tone of your voice, and the way you run your hand through your hair. And…god. I don’t even know. I just…I guess what I’m trying to say, is…it’s not just for Henry, that I’m glad you’re alive. I’m glad for me too. Because if you’d died I never would have gotten to see the look on your face while Henry reads to you, or hear your real laugh—you have a great laugh, by the way—or had you smile at me the way you did when I came in the room earlier, and, well…I’m just glad you’re not dead. So…stay that way. Please.”

Regina looked floored, and Emma gave her a small smile.

“How’d the rest of the pep talk go?” she asked.

“Better,” Regina managed. “I retract my earlier criticism.” She glanced at Emma. “You’re infuriating too,” she told her. Then, with a smirk, she added “ _Ms._ Swan.”

Emma rolled her eyes and lightly whacked Regina’s arm. “Shut up and stop ruining the moment.” 

Regina cast a sideways look at Emma, then, carefully, tilted her head so that it was leaning against Emma’s shoulder. She held her breath slightly, wondering if Emma was going to wriggle out from underneath her and exclaim _It was just a_ joke _what are you_ doing _?_

Instead, Emma took Regina’s right hand in her left, and intertwined their fingers, holding tight. After a long moment, she shifted, turning towards Regina. Regina lifted her head, so that they were staring each other in the eyes. 

Emma licked her lips. “If you’d died,” she whispered, “I’d never have gotten to do this.” Slowly, she leaned forward, giving Regina a light kiss, before gradually allowing it to turn into something deeper. When they broke apart, Regina was wide-eyed and a little breathless.

“Operation staying not-dead,” she murmured, after she got her voice back. “I think I can handle that.”


End file.
